Memorial Day: A Mick Callahan Novel (The Mick Callahan Novels) (24 page)

"Is he awake yet?"

A girl's voice answered, from nearby. "No. He hasn't moved." She sounded frightened. "Maybe he's a goner. I think we should just leave, Mex. This is turning bad fast."

"I ain't going anywhere without my money. You stay here and make sure he stays down. You got to, you bop him on the head with that shovel."

"Okay, okay," she said.

"Bobby is righteously pissed. The little one showing up last night was bad enough, but now we got two of the assholes to worry about. You watch them good, bitch."

The big wooden doors closing. Cool darkness returned. I thought I recognized the girl's voice, but was unable to place it. Her tone seemed gentle. Had she seen me move and lied about it? One way to find out. I moved again, made a soft moaning sound. The girl came over and knelt in the dirt beside me. She stroked my head gently and her fingers came away bloody and dark in the gloom.

"I'm so sorry, mister," she whispered. "Really I am."

I shook my head and tried to indicate that she should loosen the gag.

"I can't. They'll kick my ass if I do."

I made a pleading sound. After a few seconds the girl got to her feet, moving away, and I thought I'd failed. But she returned with a canteen and loosened the gag to give me some water. I drank gratefully.

"Easy," she said. "You get sick, you could throw up in that rag and drown in your puke."

"Thank you," I said. "I was really thirsty."

"You're welcome," she said. She started to put the gag back in my mouth.

I blurted out: "Wait a second. Just let me breathe some air. I won't tell anybody or yell."

"Nobody to hear you if you did, except for Mex and Donny. And then we would
both
be in a world of hurt. I'm not safe here, either. These boys are crazy, mister."

"Tell me about it. Do you know what happened to my friend Jerry, the little guy with a red scooter?"

"They got him last night," she said. "He was poking around the mobile homes when Mex and Bobby caught him." Her voice tightened in the gloom. "They beat the shit out of him."

"He's alive?"

"He's right over there."

I tried to roll over but couldn't manage. "Help me, okay?"

She leaned down and turned me. I could see Jerry; crumpled in the corner, bound and gagged.

"Can you please check on him again?"

The girl had long black hair and was wearing blue jeans. I saw the row of beads around her neck and recognized her from Jerry's office and the park. The girl he loved, the one called Skanky.

"Did Jerry come here looking to see you?" I asked.

"He's sweet," she said. "Don't matter to me he's ugly, I like him. But coming here was stupid." She started to replace the gag. "Look, I'm not going to risk getting into trouble again"

"Don't I know you?"

"You don't know me," she said. She put the gag back in my mouth and moved away. I just looked at her evenly, letting her see the lack of anger or fear in my eyes. Eventually she went over to Jerry and felt his wrist and his neck. She leaned down to make sure he was breathing.

"I think he's okay," she said. "He ain't dead, anyway."

"Thmp hhmp."

"What? Oh." She undid the gag again.

I made a melodramatic show of gasping for air. "I said thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I do know you. I saw you leaving Jerry's office day before yesterday, in the morning. And I know your voice too, don't I? You called the show. I remember the way you say things that start with the letter H."

"Wow. Yeah. That was me."

Don't think about the bugs, Callahan. Keep talking.
"You started to ask me for some advice. You were on a cell phone, where there was music playing. Sounded like a party or something. Somebody called you and you hung up without telling me what you wanted."

"You've got a good memory."

"We could start again," I said. "You could ask me what you wanted to."

"I was just worried about Jerry and what they'd do if they found out he was my friend," she said. "I wondered what I should do."

I tried not to sound as desperate as I was feeling. "So you care for him. I do too. Maybe I can still help you to sort things out."

"I don't think so, mister. I don't know if anybody can help any of us, now. Please don't get me in trouble. They hurt me real bad when I get into trouble."

"What are those big drums for, honey? They have enough chemicals in those mobile homes to blow up this part of the state."

"You're scaring me."

"They're making crystal meth here, aren't they?"

The girl was quiet. It probably occurred to her that her answer wasn't likely to make much of a difference. "If you mean speed, yeah. Crank."

"That's dangerous," I said. She fell silent. I heard some insects scrabbling around a sack and shivered.

The girl spoke again. "I didn't know anything about that when I started hanging out with Mex. Honest, I didn't."

"I believe you," I whispered. "But I hear that crystal can wholesale for around $5,000 a pound. Once they step on what's out there a couple of times, that one batch alone could be worth more than one million dollars on the street."

"Wow."

"That's one reason why they might be a little too willing to kill people."

"Look, I shouldn't have been with Jerry the other night," she said. "And Mex finds out I'm talking to you, he will kill me for sure."

"Maybe. I know he plans on killing Jerry and me before this is all over. You don't want to be a part of that, do you?"

"N-n-n-o," she whispered. "But I can't get in trouble. I'm scared."

"I'm not doing too well myself. I about wet my pants when he came in just now."

She managed to giggle, a good sign.

I said: "You think I'm kidding. I came pretty close. What's your real name?"

"Never mind."

Get the name. Connect with her
. "I remember. You called yourself Mary when you phoned my radio show."

"Yeah. Nobody around here knows me by my real name."

"Mary," I said. "This is a bad situation. For all of us."

"You stop talking to me," she said abruptly. "You'll get me in trouble."

"I don't want to get you in trouble. I'd like to keep you
out
of trouble."

"It's too late for that. Leave me alone."

"Listen, Mary?"

"Huh?"

"Do you think you can loosen the rope on my wrists just a little? Then you can go back to guarding me."

She shook her head frantically and backed away from me, kicking up dust. Some of the fat little insects, startled by her movement, clicked and slid along behind the foul smelling stacks of potatoes.

"You called my show, Mary." I used her first name as often as possible, to stress intimacy. "People do that because they need some help. You wanted me to help you then, and maybe I still can."

"I don't think so."

"What do you think they'll do to my friend Jerry and me, Mary? Let us go?"

"I don't want to know."

"But you
will
know. You'll know for the rest of your life."

"Maybe we'll just leave and you can get yourself free later. I'll ask them if we can do it that way."

"I think you know better. There's a lot of money at stake. Worse yet, I saw the old man lying murdered in the big house up there. It's too late for that kind of wishful thinking."

"Palmer? God! I don't want to know anything about any of this."

"Mary, I don't want to die, not in this place. I don't want Jerry to die. If you give me just a little help, I can do the rest on my own."

She was crying now, and I saw her rub her eyes.

"Please, Mary."

"You can't tell, you promise?"

"I promise."

She reached behind me and dug at the thickly-knotted rope binding my wrists. She stopped twice, swearing under her breath, when nails broke or fingers were sprained. Finally one strand came loose; I could just catch it with my fingers. Mary backed away, edged around in front of me on her hands and knees. She put the gag back in my mouth, but gently this time. She did not tie it at the back.

"You hold this here," she said. "So they won't know. And don't you tell anybody I did anything."

I shook my head that I wouldn't tell. She rolled me over, facing the wall as before. I struggled to loosen the rest of the knots. Mary sat in the scary dark with me, beneath the yellowish glow of the lantern, and began to rock back and forth. She started humming something familiar. After a few bars I recognized it as "All the Pretty Little Horses," a child's lullaby. She seemed close to the edge of sanity.

Jerry stirred. Mary saw, and looked back and forth between the two of us, considering. She shook her head. "I done enough," she said. "I'm not doing any more."

I strained with my fingers, but the ropes wouldn't budge. I could feel the slick of blood on my hands, a nail starting to give. The pain was intense, the alternative worse. Absurdly, someone knocked on the large wooden doors, as if politeness were appropriate. Skanky got to her feet and yanked one side part of the way open. Another girl slid through. I caught a glimpse of her and thought I recognized her from the park; she wore torn jeans, a tee shirt, and had long reddish hair. She seemed drunk or stoned. She slid clumsily down a pile of potato sacks and giggled.

"I'm gone, girlfriend," she said. "I am
so
out of it."

"No, Frisco! You didn't get high on me, did you?"

"You got to take an hour or two more," Frisco giggled. She was already half asleep. "I got to nod off."

"But it's your turn to guard them."

"Just lemme sleep," Frisco mumbled. She began to snore lightly. Skanky got up, furious, and kicked a sack of potatoes. "God
damn
it! I just can't catch a break."

"The fuck you hollering about?"

Male voice: Mex. He must have been standing outside, right above the wooden doors. Skanky backed away, scooting on her bottom. She started panting for air and whimpering. "It's cool."

The doors flew open behind me, and even though I was still facing the rear of the cellar I had to close my eyes at the sudden light. I kept my hands still.

Mex apparently saw Frisco passed out. "Stupid," he said. Then, referring to Jerry and me: "They still out?"

"Still out," Skanky said. "Nothing going on down here. How is everything at the shop?"

"Boring as a motherfucker," Mex said. "I been thinking about you. I just had to come visit again."

"I don't feel so good," she whined. I heard noises; rustlings, breathing, the sound of a zipper. "Don't," Mary said. "Not down here, okay?"

"Shut up."

I froze, felt terrible for the girl. Mex moaned and swore. Some fabric ripped. When the wet smacking sounds started, I began to work furiously at freeing my hands. Perspiration helped. When I pulled hard one hand slipped free. The groaning was becoming more intense. Gambling, I slowly brought my legs up and began to work on the knots around my ankles. Suddenly Mex wailed and went silent. I could hear the girl, crying softly. I slowly returned my body to its original position.

"That was good," Mex grunted. The girl continued to sob quietly. "Oh, shut the hell up."

Skanky said, "What are we going to do about them?"

"Those two? What do you think, dipshit? Bobby says the kid is more of a hassle because he's been living in town. The radio guy was due to leave today anyway, so nobody will give a damn when he disappears."

"Can't we just leave them to get loose on their own?"

Mex chuckled. "The big one here saw old man Palmer with a baggie on his head. That changes everything. It don't matter who killed the old fart. This could mean the needle. I heard back in the 90s, down there to Arkansas, it took one goddamned executioner more than forty minutes just to find a good vein. Fuck 'em both."

Mex began kicking at something. I heard mumbling and complaints in a female voice. "Get up, you cow!" Mex hollered.

"Leave me be," the one called Frisco whined.

"Get the hell out of here and get it together," Mex said. He forced her up the steps and out of the cellar. She went off, snarling in protest.

I heard boots scuffling in the dirt, coming my way. I kept my eyes closed. "I'm gonna do him right now," Mex said. I heard the long, cool snicker of a knife blade leaving a leather belt. Mary gasped in horror. Ice cubes formed in my gut. I wasn't sure if my limbs were completely free.

"You do it," Mex said suddenly. There was an odd lightness in his tone, a macabre touch of humor.

"Do what?" Mary asked, after a moment.

"
You
cut his throat."

"N-n-n-o."

The sound of a slap and the girl's choked sob of pain. I tested my legs, still wasn't sure if I could free myself. I could be caught helpless, on my back like a roped calf.

"Skanky, you do what you're told. You take the blade like
this
, and then you draw it across like
that.
"

"I can't do it," she whimpered.

Another slap and I was tempted to roll over and go for the boy; take my chances. Then Mex emitted a throaty, jeering laugh. "You're not good for nothing."

She just sobbed. I tensed my body and waited for Mex to return to my side, but he wasn't going to kill me.

"You can't even take a joke," Mex said.

"J-j-joke?" Mary said.

"Killing is a man's work, babe. You stay here. Don't worry, one of us will be back in a couple of minutes to take care of it." The doors opened, slammed shut. We were back in the foul darkness.

Monday Afternoon, 5:56 PM . . . Memorial Day